Martin Limon - G. I. Bones

Snake nodded.

“If you try anything, I’ll blow that stupid smile off your face. You alla?”

Snake nodded again.

I let go of his arm. He stepped forward, speaking soothingly to Doc Yong. When he stood next to her he patted her gently on the shoulder and continued to speak to her as if speaking to a child. Finally, he coaxed her to stand up. He patted her on the back as if she’d accomplished something momentous. Then, slipping his arm behind her, he turned her body and started to guide her toward the door.

Maybe I was studying her face too closely. Staring at the smooth complexion and the soft lips and the round tip of her nose. For however long my concentration wandered, it was long enough for Snake to slip his hand inside his blue silk vest and, faster than I could react, the hand was back out and a glimmering steel blade appeared at Doc Yong’s throat.

“Freeze!” he said.

I did. But my. 45 was still pointed at his head. Unfortunately, his head was mostly hidden behind hers.

“Drop it!” he said.

“Hell no.”

“I’ll slice her throat.”

I gulped. “If you do, I’ll blow your freaking head off!”

“Drop it.”

“I ain’t going to drop it. But I will blow your head off. You can count on it, Snake.”

He shoved Doc Yong forward and followed her closely. Involuntarily, I stepped back. Shuffling like that, inch by inch-me still holding the. 45 pointed at his narrow face and he still pressing the sharp edge of the daggerlike blade up against Doc Yong’s throat-the three of us backed out of the small cell. In the hallway, Snake maneuvered himself closest to the stairwell and started inching backwards.

I knew I should shoot him now. If the bullet slammed into his eyeball it would penetrate his brain so fast that he would have no time to react. He wouldn’t be able to harm Doc Yong. But if I missed-and. 45s were notoriously inaccurate even at close range-he’d fall back and, even if he didn’t intend to, he’d slice open Doc Yong’s throat. Or worse, what if I missed Snake and hit Doc Yong? These thoughts flashed through my mind as we neared the stairwell. If I didn’t stop him now Snake would start backing up the steps. He might cut Doc Yong and run. It was here I had to take him down. Now!

The. 45 quivered in my grip. The barrel was aimed right at Snake but, involuntarily, the barrel bounced and pointed at Doc Yong.

She had become alert, and terrified, realizing now that her life was in danger.

I aimed the. 45 and started to squeeze.

A huge bang lit up the world, so bright that I was blinded. Doc Yong screamed. So did I, I think. The electrical wires in the corridor sparked and then, as quickly as it had come, the bright light disappeared. I was still blinded. Seconds passed, no one moving, but then I heard thunder and when I opened my eyes again, everything was pitch black.

Upstairs, footsteps pounded and then I heard more screams and shots being fired. Ernie. At the same time, the stairwell creaked as someone ran up the ancient wooden steps.

I realized what must have happened. The eye of the Manchurian storm now hovered over Itaewon. Lightning had struck and the electricity in Snake’s mansion had gone out.

I crouched and, with my free hand, touched the brick floor beneath me, orienting myself. Snake had fled. That meant that Doc Yong was still here.

“Yong-a,” I said, calling her name. “Na yo.” It’s me.

No reply. The footsteps upstairs were treading every which way. Men were shouting. Glass, or porcelain was shattered. Men cursed in Korean. Someone shouted for lights.

I crawled forward, sweeping in front of me with my free hand, searching for her.

I touched something. A foot I think. Someone screeched and then a fist hit me on the side of my head. It was a small fist and it didn’t hurt much. It told me where she was. I lunged forward, felt her arms, and then we were grappling with one another in the dark. I enveloped her in my arms. She struggled until she realized who I was. I lay atop her. Her arms found the back of my neck and hugged tightly.

She was safe. For the moment anyway.

A beam of light searched down the stairwell.

“Sueno? You down there?”

“Down here,” I said.

“We have to un-ass the area, immediately if not sooner.”

“Was it lightning?” I asked.

“Must be. Electricity’s out in the whole area. Those assholes are regrouping out there. I heard them use the word chung.” Gun.

Doc Yong would have a solid charge to file against Snake: false imprisonment, kidnapping, maybe worse. Snake couldn’t allow that to happen. And the perfect time to make sure that it didn’t happen was in the middle of the night while a Manchurian storm raged and the electricity was out in the entire village of Itaewon.

I listened for sirens. Nothing. No sign of Captain Kim and the Korean National Police. What with a power outage and a snowstorm, their hands were full. If Captain Kim came to check on Ernie and me, it would be too late.

Doc Yong was already moving toward the light. Ernie shifted the beam of the flashlight and we climbed the stairs to the first floor of Snake’s mansion. Outside, more flashlights cast harsh rays on window panes. Shadows moved stealthily, whispering instructions to one another.

“This way,” Ernie said.

We scurried through a kitchen. At the back door, Ernie paused, listened, and then unlatched the door and pushed it open. Someone shouted.

“Shit,” Ernie said and relocked the door.

“Come on,” I said. I had an idea.

The three of us hurried back into the house. I led Doc Yong and Ernie upstairs.

The house itself was two stories tall, with balconies, and on the east side of the building was a garage, the kind the Koreans build, a small cement-block enclosure, barely large enough to contain a car, with a metal pull-down grating in front that can be securely locked. No flimsy wooden outbuildings as found in the States. In Korea, cars are valuable commodities and their owners don’t want them either stolen or exposed to the elements.

Attached to the garage was a party wall shared with Snake’s neighbor. If we could make it there, unseen, we could escape. If we had to, Ernie and I could shoot it out with Snake and his boys. We were both armed but I hoped to avoid that type of bloodshed. There was no guarantee that Ernie and I would get the better of the exchange and I had Doc Yong’s safety to think about.

Sneaking away seemed to be the best policy.

I climbed out of a bedroom window and onto the roof of the garage. I stayed low and moved toward the back of the mansion. There, where the neighbor’s wall ended, was a ten-foot drop into a cul-de-sac surrounded by more granite walls. Snake and his boys would be cut off from us. I waved at Ernie to follow. He sent Doc Yong first. When she was halfway across the roof of the garage, Ernie climbed out after her. Then we heard a shot.

Ernie’s military training had stood him in good stead during two tours in Vietnam and it stood him in good stead now. He flattened himself and as he did so a second gunshot erupted from the front of Snake’s mansion. The round winged through the air just a few feet above Ernie’s head. He low-crawled across the roof.

I jumped down into the cul-de-sac first, then helped Doc Yong. Ernie followed. From the shouts in front of Snake’s mansion, his men had realized where we’d gone. In seconds they’d be scurrying through connecting pathways, trying to cut us off.

We ran.

Itaewon is a maze of pedestrian walkways. All the twists and turns and dead ends and curving paths doubling back on themselves would baffle an Apache tracker, especially on a dark night with snow falling. But Ernie had a general rule: head toward booze. That is, keep yourself oriented on the two- and three-story buildings that rise along the edge of the strip that is the beating heart of the nightclub district of Itaewon. The neon was not blinking because of the lateness of the hour-and the electricity outage. And the night sky with its overhanging snow clouds was pitch black. Only the occasional flicker from indoor candlelight or the flame of a charcoal stove illuminated a small portion of the world. Despite these handicaps, Ernie somehow kept us oriented. The pathways were covered with slippery snow as were the rooftops and the ledges and the windowsills and since it was past the midnight curfew not a soul was on the streets except us. Even the white mice seemed to have hunkered down in their barracks for the night. Occasionally, we stopped and listened. Muffled shouts. Footsteps tromping on ice. Snake and his gaggle of fledgling Dragons were still following.